it?"

"I'll tell you," he answered, "if you'll tell me truly what was in
that packing-case?"

"Oh, now I understand," she cried excitedly. "It was to find that
out you came--and then Mr. Dawson made you help us get it away.
That was splendid."

He did not speak, for once more a kind of horror held him dumb, as
it seemed to him that she really--knew.

She saw the mingled horror and bewilderment in his eyes, and she
laughed lightly as though that amused her.

"Do you know," she said, "I believe I guessed as much from the
first, but I'm afraid Mr. Dawson was too clever for you--as he is
for most people. Only then," she added, wrinkling her brows as
though a new point puzzled her, "why are you staying here like
this?"

"Can't you guess that too?" he asked hoarsely.

"No," she said, shaking her head with a frankly puzzled air. "No,
I can't. That's puzzled me all the time. Do you know--I think
you ought to shave?"

"Why?"

"A beard makes a good disguise," she answered, "so good it's hardly